Neh Title
by Jodie Jordinson
Summary: How would you feel when a strangely familiar letter slides through your mailbox? For Glenda, it's a dream come true, and a battle between mother and daughter to let her go to Hogwarts. While Jennifer stands her ground, a certain ginger is more than happy to spend a little "quality time" with his daughter, and by the end Glen and Glenda are on the Hogwart's Express. Please review!:(


**I know where you live...**  
**I mean, uh... kidding!**  
**Okey-dokey! So, second 1 shot, right? Yeah. My little brother inspired me to write this one, as well as an upcoming fic crossing over Child's Play and Doctor Who. It, just like this, will be a one shot. **  
**Okay. Miss Disclaimer, let's get down to business.**  
**DISCLAIMER; If I owned anything, would I be here right now with a headache caused by brainstorming? I also don't own any lyrics appearing here.**  
**No, I don't think so.**  
**Music: Beyond the Valley of the Murderdolls Album**  
**So.**  
**Any questions about the plot, just click on the PM-areeno and ask me! I swear I don't bite! I just...mentally scar for life...**

A whimper cut across the silence of the Tilly household.  
It had been a peaceful morning until then. Jennifer was sleeping soudly in her double queen-sized bed, snoring softly. The rain patted against the large, white window pane, but it did not disturb her. Glenda was asleep-though it looked more like she'd passed out with all her horror books on top of her-, dreaming Glenda-style dreams of strangling One Direction with a piece of string.  
But Glen was having a nightmare.  
Again.  
These past few years had been a tough time for him. He'd be due to start high-school soon, Jennifer had picked out the best school for miles around Hollywood, though a film-paradise was no place for a ten year old. He'd already been picked on enough at elementary school, mainly for his intellect. Glenda too was very smart for her age, having the reading and writing age of someone 5 years older than her, but she didn't let these people get to her as easily as Glen. She was tough, strong, and downright scary. Everyone but these buttheads knew that Glen Tilly was off limits, no matter how hard he and Glenda argued.  
Or how much.  
Glen thrashed in his bed, unconciously pulling the covers, kicking, whinging, moaning. 'No...!' He whisper cried. 'No! I...d-don't want to s-see this!'

**Glen's POV**

_There he was again. In the hospital room. Jennifer Tilly's hospital room, to be exact. His mother's doll-corpse lay on the floor, blood trickling into her beautiful emerald green eyes that would never open again. Glen turned around slowly, baring his teeth, the monster inside his head named Glenda roaring to take over._  
_His father looked at him, axe still in both hands, just glaring. Glen looked at him, not as his father, but just as a ruthless, cold-blooded monster. He let out a war cry and kicked Chucky in the gut, sending him flying backwards and the axe clanging to the floor beside the motionless Jennifer Tilly. Chucky banged hard against the concrete wall and moaned. His head was killing him. Not literally, of course. Glen closed his mouth and-as though his feet had been replaced with wheels- moved slowly toward his father. His dad's look of pure digust* followed him as Chucky stood up and prepared for war._  
_Glen moved his hands in a peaceful, serene way, before Glenda was set free and he said, 'Let's go.'_  
_Chucky screamed as he ran towards him; but Glen had been expecting that. Stupid man, he thought. Haven't Japanese anime shows taught you anything? So predictable!_  
_One thing was for sure, Japanese anime shows had taught Glen something: how to somersault in mid air. He landed behind a very confused Chucky, who had wondered where on earth his opponent had gone, and span on his trainered heel. A now possessed Jennifer rolled onto her stomach, watching in amazement as two very ugly dolls fought to the death. _  
_A silver glint caught her eye: the axe. She grabbed it and slid it across the floor to Glen, who picked it up and, right as Chucky span around, smashed it into his chest. Chucky screamed in obvious pain and crumpled to the floor._  
_He looked at Glen towering over him. Little sh*t! He thought. You freaking killed me!_  
_'G-Glenda?' he coughed out._  
_'No, dad! It's me!' shrieked Glen. 'Your boy! Your chip off the old block!' Glen brought the axe down and chopped off Chucky's left arm. Chucky roared as crimson-black blood ran out of the decapitated arm and onto the hard, smooth lino of the floor. 'You proud of me now, Daddy?' Glen shrieked. 'Are you?' he screamed, looking quite demented as he chopped off Chucky's other three limbs. Chucky roared, a hoarse, tormented roar as he lay in a pool of his own blood. This was something he hadn't done since that dark night in 1988, being gunned down in that old toy-store by that b*stard Mike Norris. _  
_Glen's chest heaved as the adrenaline pumped through his veins. All the anger he'd felt at not being able to save his mother was released in a river of rage on his father. Pah, not his father. He couldn't bear to call this man Dad. He was just a man that had killed his Okasan. Now he must pay._  
_Chucky was trying to speak. Glen only listened because the Glenda inside him was distracted by a rabid squirrel. _  
_'A...a-ada boy, k-kid...Ada b-boy...'_  
_That did it. In a fit of anger too big to bottle, he brought the axe down on his father's neck, completely beheading him._

* * *

'Glen! Goddamit, you *sshole, if you don't wake up right now I swear I'll hook your brain out with a coat-hanger!'  
Glen sat bolt upright. When his sister threatened to do something, he knew she meant business. He instantly noticed that his bed was soaking. Oh, frick on a stick, he thought. Mum''s going to be so angry. This is the third time this week!  
'Good. You're awake. Hurry up and get downstairs. Your stupid alarm won't stop going off and it's doing my head in.' Glenda went back to her room, deliberately forgetting to close the door. Glen sighed and slipped his feet into his Homer Simpson slippers. It was a chilly June morning, and frost was starting to form on the windowsill outside. Glen shivered: not because of the cold, but because of his horrible memory.  
His mother was already up, making the lunches. Glenda was reading her Kindle and munching cereal. 'Hi Mum.' he said.  
'Hi honey, how did you sleep?'  
Glen didn't answer this question, but poured himself some cereal. Jennifer knew what that silence meant. This meant she'd have to drop by the drug store and buy Glen some sleeping pills. *sigh* This also meant another sleepless night for her.  
The postbox clanged shut. 'Glenda, would you get that?'  
Glenda stood up, still reading her Kindle, and went to the front door. She picked up the small pile of letters, deciding to be nosy and rifled through them. Suddenly, a small, faded envelope fell out of her grasp, onto the floor. 'Jesus, what do I have? Butterfingers?' Glenda asked herself. She picked up the envelope, turning it around. It was addressed to her and Glen in handwritten italics. She never got post-scratch that, they never got post, except for their birthday or the odd Christmas card. She was immmediately intrigued.

Jennifer was just cutting the crusts off Glen's sandwiches when a shrill scream rang through the hall. The knife slipped and she winced in pain, running her finger under the sink. Glen got up and ran into the hall. Glenda was passed out on the floor, an envelope in her hand. Glen shook her and plucked the faded beige paper from her black polished nails, pulling out the letter from within. He unfolded it, and his eyes went wide the longer he read for.  
'Sweetface? What's wrong?' Jennifer appeared at the door of the kitchen. 'And what's that?' she asked. Glen held the letter up with shaking hands-  
"CUT, CUT, CUT!"  
A teenage girl with brown hair wearing all black and Doc Martens motions for the cameras to cut. 'Uh, I know everyone who got a Hogwart's acceptance letter was buggin' out and everything, but is anyone going to help Glenda?'  
*Glenda looks up* Amen!  
' I mean, Jennifer, I'm not telling you how to do your job as a mother, but she is passed out, okay? Okay, take two, scene 3. Lights, camera, action!'  
-with shaking hands and handed it to Jennifer. As she read, the shaking of her head grew more violent. 'This-this can't be happening. H-Hogwart's doesn't exist...'  
'Uh, Mum, that's what all the Muggles say, and that's why they're Muggles. Duh.' said Glenda, getting up. 'Ugh, my head. We got any aspirin? Or Calpol? Yeah... Calpol tastes like strawberries...'  
'Young lady, I don't want you getting hooked on that stuff!' said Jennifer, still staring at the letter.  
'Mum, isn't Hogwart's in Scotland?' asked Glen. holding his mother's hand.  
'Yes, and that's why you're not going.'  
A crash came from the kitchen and Glenda's furious form appeared at the doorframe. 'WHAT DID YOU SAY?' shrieked Glenda.  
'You aren't going. Simple as. Now, get dressed. You're going to be late.'  
'But Mum-'  
'Now, Glenda!'  
Glenda stomped past her mother and went upstairs. They both heard a door slam. Jennifer sighed and folded up the letter again. 'Sometimes it's all I can do but wish you were the one in control of one body again, Glen.'  
'Me too, Mum. Me too.'  
'Go and get dressed, sweetface.'  
'Okay, Mum.' Glen kissed his mother and she watched him go up the stairs to his room.

* * *

_Later at school..._

Glenda stomped into the classroom in time to the song. Her mother sent her and Glen to summer school because she was so busy working on sets, and after her last maid nobody wanted to babysit.  
She threw her books on the table and maintained a P.O-ed expression. The song lyrics matched her mood perfectly.

_Hey, I'm breathing_  
_Hey, I'm bleeding_  
_Hey, I'm screaming_  
_Scum of the earth_  
_Come on_

'Uh oh,' she heard someone say. 'Glenda Tilly's P.O-ed. Stay away, she'll go into tornado mode.'  
'F*ck off, Jenny.' said Glenda.  
'Ooh, big words, Brit brat.'  
'Why don't you slip into something more comfortable; like a coma?'  
Jenny and her Nicki Minaj clones just giggled and played dumb. Glenda just cranked up the volume and ignored them. The next song was heavy and gory, just the way she liked it.

_And people hate me, cause I'm better than you_  
_And people hate me_  
_And that's the motherf*cking truth_  
_People hate me and you can all f*ck off_  
_I'm perfect, p*ssed off, beautiful, I'm God_

Glenda felt someone tap her on her shoulder. She spun round, teeth bared. It was her best friend Emma. 'Oh, hey Emma.' Glenda said, turning back to the front.  
'Uh, something's wrong, Glenda Tilly. Tell me.'  
'I'll tell you when you call me by my proper name.'  
'Okay. Glenda Ray. Tell me what's up, duckie.' Emma said, sitting in the seat behind her. Glenda spun round, her own ginger hair smacking her in the face. 'My mum won't let me go to Hogwart's.'  
Emma groaned. 'Not this again. Glenda, honey, Hogwart's Isn't. Effing. Real.'  
'Yes it is! Don't you ever say that!' Glenda said. She whipped out her acceptance letter that she'd swiped from the kitchen counter and shoved it in Emma's face.  
'Big deal. You can print these off on your computer. Someone must have sent you this as a joke.'  
'They addressed it to Shi-I mean, Glen, too. Glen soesn't even like Harry Potter. It can't be a joke.' said Glenda, as their first period English teacher walked into the classroom. 'Okay, children, take your seats.' said Miss Bell. Emma thrust her hand into the air. 'Yes, Miss Kantauske?'  
'Ma'am, would it be okay if I escort Glenda to the counseller's office?'  
'Why?'  
'Because she's convinced she's been sent a Hogwart's acceptance letter.' Emma said, holding the letter up for Miss Bell to see. The whole class burst out laughing. Glenda snatched the letter back. 'Emma, you traitor!' she said. 'And you sh*theads can shut the hell up, too!' The class fell into even greater fits of laughter.  
'Now, now, Miss Tilly. No need for that kind of language.' Glenda smirked. That's another bit of Dad showing out in me, she thought to herself. As the laughter died down, Miss Bell began to teach.

* * *

Glenda slammed the door hard when she reached home. She was soaking wet, red hair flying out in every direction. This just p*ssed her off even more. Glen was still out there, probably huffing to keep up with her. Glenda never tried in PE lessons, but she could run damn fast when she wanted to. She threw her bag into the arcade and ran upstairs, throwing herself on the bed and grabbing The Deathly Hallows. She would never give up on The Boy Who Lived.  
She noticed it was way too quiet in here for her liking. She rifled through her songs on her MP3, and found The Chucky Song. She had no idea who Chucky was, but she liked the song. No matter how cheesy and childish the lyrics were, they were useful to scare the Barbies away. Jennifer refused to watch the movies, saying her father was particularly close to them, and all Glenda knew about her dad was that his name was Charles and he-just like her- had a hot temper. Jennifer always changed the subject when Glenda brought him up. Glen seemed to veer away from the subject too.  
She heard the door slam and two pair of shoes slapping the kitchen floor. 'Glenda, honey?'  
Glenda ignored her mother, instead concentrating on the details of Harry's escape from Gringotts. The dragon was savage. Beautiful, but savage.  
'Glenda!'  
'Yeah?'  
'Do you want a cup of tea?'  
'Okay.'  
Glenda removed her torture boots (black sneakers with spikes on the toes**) and propped her feet up on the black bedcovers. She heard soft school shoes pad up the stairs, and Glen appeared at the door. 'Glenda, are you alright?'  
'Fine, doofus. Why?'  
Glen sat on the edge of her bed, and Glenda kicked him off again. Rubbing his sore bottom, Glen stood up again. 'Because I know how much you love Harry Potter, and Mum wasn't right to take that away from you.'  
Glenda sat up and put her book down, wriggling her toes awkwardly. 'You shouldn't be worrying about me, dork. I can take care of myself.'  
Glen shook his head. 'No, you can't. You put on this big tough crocodile skin, but under the iron scales you're just a scared little girl.'  
Glenda saw red at that point.  
'I'm not a little girl!'  
'Yes you are.'  
'Shut up!'  
'No. You're my little sister-'  
'Only by a few seconds!' Glenda raved, pulling her wild curls.  
'Glenda, will you just let me speak!'  
'NO!' shrieked Glenda. She stood on Glen's foot and rushed out of the room, and out of the house. Glen rubbed his foot, and spotted his sister's MP3. There was a slamming of the door, and Glen knew it was safe to pick it up, replaying the song Glenda had been listening to. As soon as the beat started, he froze.

* * *

'Glen, Glenda! Time for dinner, sweeties!'  
Jennifer heard two pairs of feet rush down the stairs, and the twins fought for the seat near the kitchen. Glenda got there first, and stuck her tongue out at Glen.  
'It's your favourite, chicken packages!' said Jennifer. She set the plates on the table and took a sip of her wine. The twins dug into their meal.  
'So, how was school today?' she asked. Glen beamed at his mother.  
'Oh, absolutely spiffing, Mummy! I got 10 out of 10 for my Maths test and Mr Brokovich gave me a gold star!' Jennifer smiled at her son. 'Oh, well done, sweetcheeks. I'm so proud of you! You can have extra dessert afterwards, if you like.'  
'I was sent to the counseller's office today.' said Glenda.  
'Oh, just wait until Aunt Rita hears this! Do you still have your test paper?'  
'Yes, Mummy.'  
'Mr Mackenzie thinks I'm crazy.' said Glenda.  
'Good, good, you can stick it on the fridge after dinner.' said Jennifer.  
'I mean, after the whole Murderdolls incident, he practically ordered a straight jacket there on the spot.'  
Jennifer looked at Glenda quizically. 'Excuse me, Glenda? Did you say something?'  
'No.' she said. 'Yes, I did, actually. I'm sick and fed up of you fawning over Glen all the time. When am I going to get rewarded for something? I only won the Art award last year. What did I get? Nothing.'  
'Glenda, I'm sorry. I wasn't fair. What's wrong?'  
Glenda brushed a curl behind her ear. 'You know how much I want to go to Hogwarts.'  
'Oh, Glenda, please. Enough with this nonsense! I'm not going to the UK for you two to twirl around turning everything into frogs. Magic doesn't exist, alright?'  
Glenda stood up. 'Says you, you cow!' She ran from the table, and Jennifer rubbed her temples.  
'Don't worry, Mummy. Glenda will be fine. She just need to let off some steam.' They both heard screaming from upstairs, and knew that Glenda was dealing with this problem her own special way: destruction.

Glenda hurled the knife at the dartboard on her closet door. This was how she liked to deal with problems. The knife pierced through the board, directly on Harry Styles' forehead. She applauded herself mentally, and threw another knife, bigger this time. It went straight through Liam's neck. Hell, she was getting good at this.  
She continued to torture the picture until it was nothing more than a pile of shredded up paper. She collapsed on her bed, exhausted. She knew her mother was famous enough to meet One Direction personally, but Glenda preferred to torture them from the warmth of her own home. At least she could wear her jammies while making a voodoo doll.  
She looked at her schoolbag, which was beside her desk. Getting up, she rifled through it until she found the letter. She read it, taking in the words she'd learnt off by heart.

_Dear Mr and Ms Tilly_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment._  
_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July, 31._  
_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_  
_Headmistress_

_Requirement List_

_UNIFORM_  
_First-year students will require:_  
_1. Three sets of plain work robes(black)_  
_2. One plain pointed hat(black)for day wear_  
_3. One pair of protective gloves(dragon hide or something similar)_  
_4. One winter cloak(black,silver fastenings)_  
_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags._

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_  
_The Slandered Book of Spells(Grade1)_  
_by Miranda Goshawk_  
_A History of Magic_  
_by Bathilda Bagshot_  
_Magical Theory_  
_by Adalbert Waffling_  
_A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration_  
_by Emeric Fungi_  
_One thousand magical herbs and fungi_  
_by Phyllida Spore_  
_Magical Drafts and Potions_  
_by Arsenius Jigger_  
_Fantastic Beasts and where to Find Them_  
_by Newt Scamander_  
_The Dark Forces: A Guide of Self Protection_  
_by Quentin Trimble_

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_1 wand_  
_1cauldron(pewter, standard size2)_  
_1set of crystal phial_  
_1 telescope_  
_1 set of brass scales_  
_Student may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

Glenda forgot about that. She'd been really looking forward to beating the magic out of that Bludger.  
Folding up the paper, Glenda stowed it under her pillow and dozed off.

* * *

The next morning, Glenda didn't need her alarm to wake up. She sat up and combed her hair with her fingers, before sliding out of bed. Her eyes were red and tired-looking, despite the fact she'd fell asleep around 6 o'clock.  
She grabbed her dressing gown from the hanger and slipped out the bedroom door. She rubbed her freezing hands together and blew into them, as a clatter and a curse came from the kitchen. Glenda stopped on the stairs, and pulled out her trusty little blue pocket knife. Nobody but Glen knew about it, and that was how it would stay.  
Hm. The voice was familiar somehow. It was masculine. Sounded like Brad Dourif, or something. Jennifer was known to work with people like that in movies.  
'Aw, frick.' The voice said. 'Tiff should really clean up after herself. Seriously...'  
Glenda reached the bottom of the stairs. 'Who's there?' She said. The clattering ceased immediately. Glenda tightened her grip on the knife and advanced towards the heavy breathing.  
'Come on, I know you're there. If you don't show yourself I'll stick a chainsaw down your throat*.' Glenda wished she had a chainsaw.  
A soft chuckle came from the kitchen, and Glenda was taken aback.  
There, standing on the $250-a-piece lino floor, was a little ginger doll. His hair was longish, and his eyes were sparkling with malice, much like her own did when there was bloodshed or torture. It was wearing a rainbow striped shirt, denim dungarees with the words "Good Guys" embroidered on the front pocket, and small red and white sneakers. His face was pale and plastic, yet it looked brand new.  
'Ah, you must be Glenda.' The doll held out his hand, the other wrapped around a large butcher's knife. Glenda didn't take the hand, and the doll raised an eyebrow. 'Hm. I don't remember raising Glen to be so rude. Must be from their mother's side.'  
Glenda just looked at the doll, recognition spread across her face like butter. 'I know you! You're that doll from all those horror movies! Um...' she struggled to remember the name of the doll.  
'Aw, come on, kid. Can't even remember your old man's name?' said the doll, a hand on his hip all diva-ish. How he looks acting all feminine is completely up to you guys.  
Glenda was confused. 'What?' she asked. The doll's expression changed. He went from happily-amused to pretty ticked off. 'That,' he said, throwing his foot on the floor like a toddler having a tantrum. 'Is the last straw.' He marched right past Glenda into the hall, but stopped suddenly. 'Where's your mom's room?' he asked. Glenda hesitated, letting her eyes dart absently to her mother's bedroom. The doll followed her glance and grinned evilly, making his way up the stairs.  
'No! Stop!' whisper-shouted Glenda. But the midget just kept crawling on up those stairs. He reached the landing and, not even bothering to be quiet, ran to the bedroom door and slipped inside. It was all Glenda could do but not scream; instead following in the munchkin's wake. There was a shriek, a padding of feet and what seemed like a greeting. Glenda ran to her mother's door and peeking inside, saw Jennifer huddled up in her bed with the covers all around her, and a terrified expression on her face. And at the foot of her bed was the doll, holding his knife and grinning. 'Come to join the party, kid?'  
Glenda looked at her mother. 'Who is this?' she asked.  
Jennifer swallowed and wiped her forehead. 'Glenda, honey, this is-'  
'Your daddy!' interuppted the doll. 'Pleased to meet ya, dollface, call me Chucky!'  
Glenda felt faint, and then a shroud of darkness enveloped her eyes.

* * *

'Sweetface! Wake up, please!'  
'Get away from her, Tiff. Look, you gotta hold her head like this...'  
'Don't call me Tiff! You know full well it's Jennifer now!'  
Glenda opened her eyes, and saw her mother's pretty face looking down at her, as well as Chucky's and Glen's. 'How'd I get down here?'  
Chucky answered that one. 'Well, you tried to find out how low you could go, and I guess this is the minimum.'  
Glenda chuckled a little and sat up. She went to face her father. 'You...you're my dad?'  
'Uh huh. The one and only.' Chucky said, looking quite proud. Then he faced Jennifer. 'I am the only one, right? No courters are waiting outside to,' he made a thrusting motion. '..you?'  
Jennifer just rolled her eyes. 'Glen, fetch your sister some water please.' Chucky froze at the mention of Glen's name, and rotated his head 180 degrees. 'Well, well, well. Glen, we meet again.'  
Glen froze. 'H-hi, Dad...' he stuttered.  
'Don't you, "Hey Dad" me. Thanks to you, my limbs will never be the same again.' snarled Chucky. Glenda held up a hand. 'Woah, woah, woah... am I missing something here?' Chucky turned his head back to face Glenda and raised his eyebrows. 'Maybe you'd better sit down on a chair before we begin. Don't wan'cha smacking your head on this million dollar floor,' He said the last bit, imitating Jennifer. Jennifer just lifted her daughter up, and dragged her downstairs, Chucky following along in their wake.

**Hm, I originally made this to be a one-shot, though I think I'll make it into a 3 chapter fic. Whaddaya say? The gri-gri work?**  
***I made this threat once.**  
**I don't own any of the lyrics appearing here. They belong to Rob Zombie and The Murderdolls.**


End file.
